


Fiction In The Space Between

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [87]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heartbreak is an ongoing process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiction In The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published October 10, 2005
> 
> Spoilers through “Get It Done”. When the commas go out the window, it’s always a good sign. And I thank [](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/)**sadbhyl** for her tears on this one.

Joyce barely registered the hesitant knock at her door.

“Mom?” The door creaked open, and she could feel Buffy’s concern from across the room. Light, uncertain footfalls as the girl made her way into the room. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She wanted to tell Buffy that she was fine, that she would be down in a few minutes, she just needed a moment to herself. But she couldn’t form the words. At the moment it was taking every ounce of will she had just to keep breathing.

“Mom?”

The gentle hand on her shoulder made Joyce flinch.

“What ha—” worry was cut off by a quick exhalation of air. “Oh, Mom.”

She nearly choked on the sob that rose up at the compassion that weighted her daughter’s voice. She had always expected a disgusted “Ew” from the girl if some of these pictures ever came to light. Not this sympathy.

“He drew these?” Buffy asked, with a hint of appreciation.

Joyce nodded. She still had no voice, and, as much as it hurt, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the papers strewn across the floor. She had found the portfolio by accident while she was cleaning, hadn’t even recognized it until it was too late. The pain and betrayal had hit her again with all of its brutal force and the pages had scattered from her hand. Almost every single one was of her, some moment snatched out of time. Many of them were nudes, open and unabashed, a snap-shot of passion. Others were simple glimpses of her everyday life: paying the bills, helping Dawn with her homework, washing the dishes, sleeping . . .

But the one that always captured her attention was one of the first Ethan had done. It had been done during the time the Gentlemen had stolen their voices, when they were still getting to know each other. This was the original on lined yellow legal pad that he had since recopied onto finer stock for her birthday last year. In this picture Joyce wasn’t completely alone, the top of Rupert’s head visible over her stomach and between her outspread thighs. Every time she saw the picture it filled her with a sense of awe and wonder, literally stealing her breath with the overwhelming power of such a simple piece. The look on her own face, upside down over the edge of the bed never ceased to amaze her. It was so open, the sheer ecstasy creating a beauty that she hadn’t imagined possible for herself. But now the picture only made her ill, reminding her of all that had been irrevocably destroyed.

Finally her paralysis broke and she was down on her knees, scooping the pages together, desperate to hide them from sight. She couldn’t look at them anymore. There were too many memories, too many feelings contained in those simple pencil lines. They needed to go away, they need to be destroyed, they—

Buffy’s hands came to rest on her own, stilling their frenzied movement.

“Easy, Mom, or you’re going to ruin them.”

Joyce looked at her daughter, anger washing over her in a red tide. “They’re already ruined!” she shouted, the edges of the paper cutting into her fingers.

The girl’s eyes widened in shock, but when she spoke, her voice was soothing. “Let me take care of these for you, alright?”

Pushing the pages away from her, Joyce sat back against the bed, watching as Buffy carefully stacked the pages and returned them to the portfolio.

“You can take those out with the trash,” Joyce said, feeling very numb suddenly. “Better yet, put them by the fireplace. I’ll burn them this evening.”

“Mom, you can’t burn these!” Buffy looked absolutely horrified.

“It’s just paper, Buffy.”

“These aren’t just something you throw away.”

“They’re nothing but lies,” Joyce replied. She couldn’t understand why Buffy of all people was fighting her on this. “And they need to be destroyed.”

Buffy clutched the packet protectively. “You don’t destroy something like this. I know it hurts to look at them now, but one day you’ll be glad you have them. To remember.”

“I don’t want to remember,” she jumped to her feet. “After what he almost did to your sister, how can you stand there lecturing me about keeping mementos of that bastard around?”

The silence settled around them, heavy with tension. When Buffy spoke, her voice was quiet, but determined. “Because Ethan loved you when he did these. That’s not something you ever want to forget.”

“It was a lie, Buffy, from the beginning. He wouldn’t have betrayed us if it wasn’t,” Joyce swallowed.

“I know what you’re going through right now. So believe me when I say that you will regret getting rid of these. Things are bad now, but they didn’t used to be. He loved you, Mom. He really did.”

Joyce sighed in frustration. “This isn’t anything like when Angel lost his soul. Ethan didn’t lose his soul, if he ever had one to begin with. He made a conscious decision to join with the First.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Buffy said evenly. “Angelus loved me every bit as much as Angel did. Why do you think he was so determined to destroy me? The ones you hurt the most are the ones you love the most.”

Shaking her head, Joyce tried to ignore Buffy’s words. “Get out.”

“Mom, just listen to—”

“Buffy, please get out now. Before I say something I might regret,” she warned.

Her daughter looked like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it and obeyed Joyce’s request. She paused at the door and glanced back with determination. “I’ll take care of them.”

And with that she was gone.

Joyce collapsed on the bed, suddenly very, very tired.  



End file.
